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Dr Ratio stands frozen at the door. His vision is stained red, much like the floor before him. The deep colour creeps behind his eyelids, brands his very retinas- unavoidable, unmistakable, unforgiving. At the centre of it all lays Aventurine, the one who gave purpose to his search for the truth, the one who showed him the joy beyond logic, the one who exudes so much life despite his own disregard towards it- life that is now rapidly seeping from him, oozing from unnatural marks on his pale skin. Deep crimson mars a blank canvas, the streaks a grotesque work of art. The tool responsible for such carnage is loosely wrapped in a lifeless hold, its edge greedily drinking the life force of its wielder like a parasite that doesn’t know to keep its host alive.Hours seem to pass in the fleeting second it takes the Doctor to comprehend the scene before him: his soulmate is dying.All medical knowledge flees from his head as he falls to Aven’s side. This can’t be happening. He can’t do anything. He’s helpless as he watches each precious drop slip between his fingers; no amount of pressure will bring them back where they belong. No amount of CPR will paint those cheeks with blush once more.It’s not raining yet drops of clear liquid trail the cooling snow of Aven’s skin. They’re not enough to wash away the red that taints him. They’re not enough to ease the pain in Ratio’s chest.Aven’s body finally matches those lifeless eyes of his, both so beautiful in death as they were in life.They try to take him. Someone keeps screaming… it sounds distant… Don’t take him, don’t you dare… please.In the end, no one can tear Aventurine’s lifeless body from Ratio’s embrace.***His life is now a paradox: completely devoid of colour yet irrevocably branded in scarlet. The vibrant shade almost mocks him standing out painfully against the dull lens that now filters his reality.Aventurine was alone in his final moments.This thought invades his every waking hour. It’s tattooed on his mind, an endless loop, an infinite burden. He hasn’t allowed himself to acknowledge the guilt he knows should come hand in hand with it. It’s too soon. Maybe it will always be.Aventurine deserves better- deserved.Logic brings Ratio no consolation for the first time in his life. No amount of rationalisation can alleviate the sheer weight of his grief. He hasn’t cried since he found him…For all the world knows, he’s functional… ‘fine.’ What a word. Probably what he looks like now, in front of this class, delivering a lecture with the usual no-nonsense attitude everybody expects from him. Nothing could be further from the feeling that wrecks his entrails. He’s not sure he could find words for it…A void. Emptiness. Meaninglessness. All of these fall short. This thing is empty with a certain hunger, almost like- a black hole. A chasm that’s vacuuming every other feeling, any hint of light.‘Is this what he felt when he died?’There’s one way to get something close to an answer…Rationally, he has no reason to do so. Yet the black hole pulls, relentless.It was subtle at first. Dismissible.Before he knew it, it had grown so much that it’s now swallowed him whole.He knows there’s no going back from it.He knows there’s no other way… rather, he feels it.This is it.The same room, the same blade- still hungry for red, still thirsty for life.Let them sate each other: the crimson blade and the black hole.Maybe now he’ll finally understand.Maybe now he’ll feel again.